


Life through your eyes

by Qwerty1



Series: Doctor Who AU fanfics [3]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: AU, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Smut, TW - medical and hospital stuff, TW - talks of cancer, au - disabilities, kinda based on TFIOS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-07-28 06:20:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 19,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7628407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Qwerty1/pseuds/Qwerty1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rose Tyler is like every teenager ever. Mentally, at least. Physically, she's having a hard time making her body do what she wants it to. Living the consequences of the brain damage she suffered as a baby, she has come to accept that there isn't more to life than bad telly and being fed chips by whoever's available at the moment. </p><p>Until she meets John Smith.</p><p>John, the mad man with one leg. John, who's got an unique way of seeing life. John, who prefers to call himself the Doctor. John, who understands every word she says despite her huge speaking difficulties. John, who she just can't stop thinking about.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hiiii guys!! So I'm back with another writing project!
> 
> I have read a few fanfics where one or two of the characters have some kind of disability. The thing about these fanfics is: the character in question ALWAYS gets "better" in the end of the story. As if there's no way to have a happy ending if your body doesn't work perfectly... I've been wanting to prove that theory wrong for a while now, Aaaaand there can never be enough tenrose AUs in the world! Enjoy and I'd be very happy if you could take the time to leave kodus or a nice comment :)

There has been quite a few big turning points in the 19 years of my life.

It all started when I was born. To be precise, when I’d been on this Earth for three days. To make a long story short, something went wrong and my body had to cope with fourty-five long minutes without oxygen. As you might’ve guessed, my body didn’t take it very well. Nor did my brain, resulting in permanent damage. My dad left my mum when I was just one week old, said he couldn’t handle a (air quotes) _“retared daughter”_.

My mum actually maneged the first few years by herself, before the doctors got it into their thick heads that I couldn’t walk nor talk (at least not to the point where someone could understand a word from my mouth that’s over three syllables long). I got a personal assistant, didn’t like her, got a new one. Got a few infections, went into hospital a few times.

You know, just… Life.

I guess I shouldn’t have been so suprised when my mum annunced that she’d got me a room in an institution. She’s always wanted me to learn how to live and do stuff by myself, and I guess that was it.    
  
  
  


I had just returned home after being out with my assistant, when I found her waiting for me in the kitchen. The alarm bells rang, thinking something’s wrong or that I’d done something. Then she smiled, and I was relieved.

Then she started babbling, telling me everything about that home and even showing me the brochure. I politely told her that it seemed intresting, but in reality it didn’t seem like such a good idea back then.  
  
  
  


The next conversation came up later that night, at dinner.

“But, like, it’s not like anyone there will understand what I’m saying. I mean, they’ve never met me.”

“No, but I’m sure they’ll learn, just like I and Amy did. Until then, you’ll just have to use the speech card”, my mum says simply.

I shut my eyes, groaning. That card is like my worst enemy (if you don’t count my shitty brain function, that is)! Basically, it’s a big cardboard piece covered in symbols. Every symbol represents a word or a short phrase that’s written under the symbol in question. If I want to say something to someone who hasn’t spend enough time with me to understand my speech, I do so by pointing to each word I want until I’ve formed a sentence that makes sense. Pros: it’s a substitute for those who can’t talk nor have enough control over their limbs to learn sign language (like me). Cons: It takes _forever_ to ask a simple question!    
  
  
  


“And what do _you_ think of all that?” Amy asks, scooping up some of the chocolate milkshake with the orange plastic spoon.

“It seems intresting, could be fun. It’s not really an institution, it was originally supposed to be a rehabilitation centre, but now they take all sorts, so to speak. You can live there permanently or just a week or a few days at a time“, I explain, licking the spoon that’s being held in front of me.

Amy nods to let me know she understood everything I said. She and my mum are two of the very few people I know who has learned to understand everything I say. That might be one of the reasons why I consider Amy my best friend, though she really is my assistant. Sad, right?

When the plastic cup that used to contain the milkshake is empty, Amy gets up from her chair to throw it in a nearby trash can. I watch her as she does so, and when she returns to the table she grabs her purse from where it’s been hanging on  the chair’s backrest.

“It sounds great if you ask me. You need to get out more, get some real friends.”

“You just quoted my mum...”

“Rose-”

“No, I’m serious. Are you my assistant or my therapist?”

“Rose, stop it. I’m telling the truth, you know I am. When do you leave for this home, anyway?”

“Please, don’t call it a _home_. Anything but a _home_. And next week.”

“So soon? No...”

She seems disappointed, sad even. I understand, and I’ll miss her as well. We’ve been doing about everything together for the last four years, and at that point you get very close to the person. Apart from seeing my mum every day and the cosyness of my bedroom, I think Amy’ll be the only real reason to miss something when I move. But still, we havn’t decided if I’m gonna stay there permanently.  
  
  
  


We share a hug when she drops me off at the flat, and it’s obvious that she doesn’t really want to let go. Not even when my mum opens the door, peering out at us.

“Hello, you two”, she smiles.

Amy unwillingly breaks the hug, stepping aside.

“Good day, mrs Tyler.”

“Amelia Pond, how many times have I told you to just call me Jackie?”

“A few…?” Amy murmurs.

My mum replies with a smile, stepping aside so I can get into the hall without any problem.    
  
  
  


We exits the car, my mum lifting me over to my electric wheelchair before clasping the belt over my knees. This is it. She grabs the bags from the trunk, looking over at me.

“How does it feel, sweetheart?”

“Good, I guess. Nervous”, I answer honestly.

She nods, patting my shoulder before she starts walking. I push the joystick forward, my wheelchair buzzing to life and slowly rolling forward.

We are greeted at the front door, several pairs of curious eyes watching me from the kitchen and function room. My mum’s making small talk with some of the staff as they lead us towards my new room, the suitcases squeaking as she drags them behind her across the corridor floor.

My room’s at the end of the hall, the door’s already standing wide open. I roll inside, relieved that it’s much bigger than I feared it would be. There are three same-sized windows, the view over a crowded market place. The only current furniture in the room is a bed and a desk, but you were allowed to bring your own stuff. The staff are introducing themself, one by one, but I don’t really register their names since I’m too busy looking around. I roll over to the windows, looking out. There’s a lump in my stomache, filled with both anxiety and excitement. I’m having very mixed feelings about this.

My mum begins unpacking, and I point and instruct her where I want everything. It takes a few minutes before I realized I’m being watched, spinning around to see a brown haired boy about my age looking at me. He’s standing in the doorway, leaning his weight on a pair of crutches. It takes a little while for my brain to register the fact that he’s only got one leg.

I steer my chair towards him, stopping right in front of him and giving him an polite smile.

“Hello, I’m Rose. Rose Tyler. I’m gonna live here for a while.”

My mum opens her mouth to translate what I just said into normal human speech, but he interrupts her before she’s got a chance to say anything.

“Nice to meet you, Rose Tyler. I’m the Doctor”, he says, the smile on his face lighting up the room.

“ _What_ -?”

“No it’s not, his name’s John”, one of the staff tells me from somewhere behind me.

The boy looks insulted for about five seconds, before his smile retuns.

“So, Rose, are you gonna stay permanently or a while at a time?” he asks, changing the subject.

My mum is quick to reply to that:

“Oh, we havn’t decided ye-”

“Hey, I’m sure Rose is perfectly capable of answering that by herself. Aren’t you?”

After the last part, he turns to face me again. _I could kiss that man!_

I can’t help how much I’m actually blushing.

“L-like my mum said, we havn’t decided yet. I’ll stay a few days first, to test what it feels like.”

He nods, never taking his eyes off me. From the looks on the staff’s faces it’s obvious that they didn’t understand much of what I just said.

“John!” someone yells.

He groans, turns around and limps away on his crutches. That gives me perfect view of his gorgeous hair.

I can’t really concentrate during the rest of the unpacking, my thoughts occupied by that very strange boy. He didn’t need me to use my card or anything, he understood every word I said the first time we met. That’s a first, that’s for sure. Usually strangers give me wierd or sympathetic looks when they hear me speak for the first time.

I’ve got a feeling I’m gonna enjoy staying here.


	2. Chapter 2

When all the moving boxes are emptied and piled up in a corner I join the others for dinner. They are all sitting around the rectangular table, taking turns intrudocing themself.

The girl at the right corner of the table goes first. Her brown hair reaches just below her shoulders, the bright yellow, sleeveless dress making her two missing limbs very obvious.  

“Clara Oswald, 21. Here a few days a week, whenever I feel like it. Please don’t let my obvious lack of arms fool you, I’m actually the quickest toe-typer in entire London. My current record is two pages in-”

“No offense, but I wouldn’t believe a word that girl’s saying!” a boy exclaims.

“Jack!” several annoyed voices echos.

“What?” Jack asks innocently.

Clara sticks her tounge out at him before leaning back in her chair, lifting her foot to the table and grabbing the handle of her cup between two toes, lifting it from the table with unbelieveble precision. After taking a sip she puts the cup back down with a smug little smile, as to prove a point.

It would be a lie to say I’m not a _little_ impressed. 

“Why don’t you go next then, _genius_?”

“Gladly. Jack Harkness, at your service!”

Clara rolls her eyes. 

“But come _on_ -”, she groans.

“Just ignore them, that’s what we all do like all the time”, another voice cuts into the conversation. 

It’s a young woman a little older than Clara, her hair a mess of honey-colored curls. I do my best not to stare at the thin plastic tube under her nose, which I’m guessing provides her with extra oxygen. We make eye contact for a split second, and she smiles at me.

“I’m River, and I have to live with these two”, she says, a hint of humor in her voice at the last part.

“Oi!” Clara and Jack yelps at the same time. 

“I’m just saying”, River tells them, making me giggle. 

“In case you are confused, Jack made a very bad pun about Clara’s disability when they first met, and since then they are each other’s sworn enemys. Oh, and my name’s Martha”, I’m informed by the dark haired girl sitting in a wheelchair with one leg resting over the other. 

That’s when I realize John hasn’t said a word. He keeps looking at me. No, staring. He’s actually _staring_ at me. To be honest, it’s kind of creepy. I decide to use the trick I use for when someone in public gets a little _too_ nosy: I glare back. For a few seconds there isn’t any reaction, but then he cracks a smile before looking down at his lap. 

“What?” I ask him, a little annoyed now.

He shakes his head in response, his eyes never meeting mine. 

After their introductions I’m pretty sure I’ll be able to keep track on who’s who. Then the food’s done, and it’s time to eat. My mum keep insisting that she’s gonna stay here with me for at least one night, just to make sure things go okay. In the car on the way here I kept telling her that I’ll be absolutely fine, but she didn’t really listen. 

I got the exact same reaction after telling her I’m not sure I’ll feel comfortable being fed in front of a group contemporaries. A small group, but still. 

Turns out, there wasn’t really any reason to be worried about it. After my mum shared my fears with the staff, they showed me a smaller table by the wall, separated from the main table by a green plastic devider. It’s actually kind of cosy, and perfect if you want to get a bit of privacy while eating.

After settling down, my chair parked by the table and my mum sitting next to me, I’m served my dinner. A quick glance at the list hanging on the fridge earlier informed me that it’s fish and potatoes, which turns out to be right. 

We go through the usual routine: my mum cutting the food into bite-sized pieces, which she feeds me one at a time. If I was aked to make a list about the ten worst things with my disability, I’m pretty sure not being able to eat by myself would make the top three. Another thing would be the almost constant spasms in my arms and legs, something I have absolutely no control over. They were worse when I was a kid, though. At one point my parents couldn’t place a fragile object of any sort within an arm’s lengh from me.    
  
  
  
  


I planned on having a calm few hours in my room after dinner, but my mum seems to want otherwise. She places my speech card on the plastic table attatched over my knees, telling me I should get to know the others a bit more. I know from experience that there’s no use arguing with her once she’s set her mind to something she believes is best for me, so I leave my room without protesting in any way. 

I find John in the armchair next to the telly, watching some kind of commersial with a bored expression, his crutches leaned against a nearby coffee table. He can probably hear the faint buzz of my wheelchair, turning around in the chair to look at me. 

“Hello there! How’s it going?”

I reply with a simple smile, the wheels squeaking underneath me as I approach him. Suddenly he seems so over-enthusiastic, even turning down the volyme on the telly like he expects there to be some kind of conversation between us. He’s doing that again, staring at me. 

Despite rather spending my day eating chips wrapped in my favorite blanket than talking to a complete - and extremely wierd - stranger, there’s something about him that’s intresting. There are questions circulating in my brain, questions I need the answer to if I’m gonna stop thinking about him. 

Yes, I am aware of exactly how nutters that makes me seem.

But, then again, talking to some of the others would involve me having to use my speech card. 

“Why don’t you like your own name?” I find myself asking.

“Huh?” he mumbles, blinking at me.

“Your name _is_ John, isn’t it?”

“Yup! You’re a very observant girl, Rose Tyler.”

There’s something about the way he says my name, something that gives me a wierd feeling. He says my name like you say the title of your favorite movie or the flavor of your favorite chocolate bar.  

“Cause, when she pointed out that was your name, you looked insulted”, I explain, getting back to the point.

“What? Oh, _that_. That’s… Well, the answer isn’t nearly as intresting as you want it to be”, he tells me, running his fingers through his brown hair, like he is in deep thoughts.

“What _is_ the answer, then?” I ask him, parking my wheelchair next to where he’s sitting and never taking my eyes off him.

Now it’s my time to do the staring. 

He gives me another one of those bright smiles, even laughing a little.

“Brilliant, you are…! Back when I was in hospital, in isolation, I needed a way of coping without going completely bonkers. Like all little boys the same age as I was a the time, I used my imagination to do so. I created a kind of… Fantasy world in my head, were I could do and be anything. And yes, I made up a name. It’s just stuck with me ever since, I think that’s what happens when your real name’s John Smith.”

I can’t help but laugh at that.

“You are joking, right? I mean, are there even people with that name? I thought that was just some type of code name a lot of people used!”

“I am living proof, so yes.”

My laugh dies away into a little giggle, my heart pounding in my chest. It’s a good feeling, though.

“Wait, isolation? If you don’t mind me asking…?”

He shakes his head, smiling softly.

“Oh no, not at all. I had cancer, diagnosed at 14. That’s also the very-not-epic story of how I lost my beloved leg.”

After finishing the sentence, he laughs. No sad smile, no signs of dark memories passing through his mind. He _laughs_ , like he just came to the point of a very bad joke. 

I think I might throw up.

“What’s wrong? Cause, you look like you’ve seen a ghost”, he tells me, obvious concern in his voice.

“It’s just… I just… You just made a joke about cancer. You _joked_ about cancer, and then you _joked_ about losing a leg. And, I just… Obviously I’ve never had cancer or anything like that, but I do know that it can’t be easy. And I _do_ know that you do _not_ make fun of stuff like that!”

I spin my chair around, starting to leave.

“Rose-”

“Don’t. Cancer has killed people, you know.”

“Rose!”

“What!?”

“I only made fun of _my_ cancer, not _other people_ having it. That’s different. And besides, as an official cancer survivor, I think I’m a bit entitled to that. Seeing the humor in things make them easier, you know.”

That catches my attention. I spin around once more, this time so I’m facing him. 

“So, what you mean is, I’m free to make stupid jokes about wheelchairs?”

“Well, I didn’t say stupid, but… Yeah, pretty much. Like I said, adding a bit of humor to things often make it easier to cope with said thing”, he explains.

“You don’t make any sense”, I tell him.

He replies with a huge grin. I shake my head, and my eyes land on the clock on the wall by the telly.

“Oh god, is it already that late?”

“Yeah, I guess”, he confirms.

“I should go to my room, I have some… stuff I need to fix.”                   

“Of course. See you later, Rose Tyler!”

I’m already halfway to the rooms, but I stop to turn around and look at him. 

“Likewise… Doctor”, I reply, testing how the name sounds from my mouth.

I like it, I decide. It’s cool and unique, and it makes him seem special.

I guess he is, in a way.

When I returns to my room, my mum’s in the middle of reading a book. She looks up, smiling when she sees me.

“Hello, sweetheart! How are you?”

“Really great”, I say honestly. 

She presses the red call button by the wall, informing me that I should have the staff help me while she's still here in case something goes wrong. In a normal situation her overprotectiveness would annoy me and I would protest, but for some reason I'm totaly fine with it now. 


	3. Chapter 3

Fortunately, having strangers wash you and change your clothes isn’t nearly as awkward as I feared it would be. 

I have never really had anyone in my life helping me with those kind of things, except for my mum and a few nurses whenever I’ve been in the hospital. To be honest I liked it that way, I’ve never had any problem with my mum helping me with very personal things. I did have some thoughts on getting a few assistants to do it, but I was always scared it would be far too awkward. Yes, I do have Amy, but she’s more like a friend. Like I said, I’ve never been intrested in anyone but my mum helping me with things like showers and getting dressed. 

For breakfast, there’s multiple choices of what you’d like to eat. Milk and yoghurt, three different types of cereal, bread, several different cheeses and hams, and some fruits in a wodden bowl at the center of the table. 

Everyone seems pretty sure about what they are having for breakfast, John grabbing an banana without even thinking and starting to peel it as he listens to the story Martha’s currently telling.

“...looks at me up and down, like she’s having a hard time believing what she’s actually seeing. After a moment of staring at me to the point where I’m pretty uncomfortable, she turns to my sister and goes ‘What’s wrong with her?’ Normally those are things that doesn’t get to me, but I was so tired and I just had enough. So I sigh very loudly to get the old lady’s full attention, and I tell her ‘Nothing at all, except for the fact that _she_ is having a headache and that _she_ is tired of people only seeing _her_ damn chair!’ You should’ve seen her face guys, she barely looked at me after that!”

Several laughs echos across the breakfast table, including mine. It feels nice to laugh. I hate to admit it, but the knowledge that my mum’s leaving today has resulted in a huge lump in tention in my stomach. I’m 19 for God’s sake, I can take care of myself! 

My mum repeats the question she asked me earlier, about what I’d like to eat. I still have no idea, and I tell her so. John, of course, can understand our entire conversation without any problem. 

“How about a banana?” he suggests, grabbing one from the fruit bowl and holding it towards me. 

This leaves me in a very awkward position, since I’m not able to lift my hand and take it without risking to smack it out of his hand. 

“No thanks, I don’t like fruits very much”, I tell him politely. 

He looks at me like I just insulted the fruit, but ends up shaking his head as he puts the banana back in it’s bowl.  

I end up deciding I want some toast, one of the staff assisting me with putting two slices of bread in the toaster. I’m right in the middle of the very tough decision between cheese and ham, when I realize Jack’s actually talking to me. 

“What about you, Rose? You must have some experience to share about the idiocy of able-bodied people. Right?”

No, please, don’t ask questions like that. I came here to pick my breakfast, not to hold a lecture about every degrading stare and comment I’ve had to put up with in my life. 

“Leave her alone”, Clara breaths out, sensing my discomfort and glaring at Jack before returning to her cereal. 

I stare down at the plastic table over my legs, my speech card looking like it’s actually _waiting_ for someone to use and care for it. Well, that’s not gonna happen. I don’t even know why I brought that stupid thing here, even my mum knows how much I hate using it. Still, she’s patting my shoulder, giving me an encouraging smile. Like that’s gonna help… I give her a reply in the form of a tiny shake of my head, hoping she’ll get the message: I do not _want_ to speak by pointing at words on a card. You can do it, she mouths.

No, I _can’t_.

I leave the kitchen, putting my wheelchair on the highest speed to minimize the risk of anyone following me. I ignore my mum as she calls my name a few times, turning at a corner in the corridor and finding a room I haven’t seen yet. 

It’s a small library, the supposed-to-be-bookshelfs filled with many things apart from actual books: board games, colorful statues of different shapes and sizes, and a few things I’m not able to identify at this distance. 

I move further into the room. The wall right in front of me is almost entirely occupied by a window. It’s a beautiful view, a garden sorrounded by several varieties of flowers. There’s a round table in the middle, by which two chair’s placed. One of the chairs have been pulled aside, like it wasn’t needed at that moment. 

The sound of footsteps startles me and I spin around, my brain struggling to find something to tell my mum that doesn’t include making me sound like a rude bastard. It soon turns out that isn’t a problem right now, since the person now standing in front of me isn’t my mum. 

It’s John. For some reason, that annoys me. I mean, he must have better things to do than spending his time with the new girl who just stormed out in the middle of breakfast. Right?

“What are you doing here? Where’s my mum?” I find myself asking.

“She’s talking to the staff, I came here to tell you your toast’s done”, he informs me. 

I groan. 

“I’m not really hungry anymore. And even if I was I wouldn’t want to go back there.”

“Why not?” he asks, for some reason concerned. 

“I don’t know, actually… Let’s just say my mum’s making me uncomfortable.“

“Mums are the worst sometimes”, he agrees, pulling one of the two chairs toward him, sitting down and placing his crutches on the floor. 

I can’t help but smile a little.

“No, you wouldn’t understand”, I tell him.

“I’m sure I would”, he insists.

I shake my head. 

“I don’t think so, though. You can speak perfectly, there’s no need for you to worry about if someone will understand you or not. Also, you can get your message throught with _words_ , without having to tap each word and wait for whoever you’re talking to to confirm they’ve understood. So, no, you don’t understand.”

He watches me, not saying a word, like he is trying to take in everything I just said. I return to staring out the huge window, letting my mind wander. He still doesn’t say anything. I feel myself getting tense, the constant fear of getting judged there once again. Finally, he speaks:

“You’re right, I don’t understand. But that does not mean I can try to, or at least make you feel better.”

“Why are you here?” I ask, repeating my earlier question. 

“I told you, your toast’s done. Though they’ve probably gone cold now… Also, we got worried when you just left like that.”

“We?”

“Me, the others. Clara, River, Jack...”

“So they sent you out after me?” I guess. 

“What? No! They… They don’t know I’m here. I told them I was tired, that I was going back to my room...”

“Yeah? Why didn’t you ju-?”

“Rose, there you are!”

My mum’s voice interrupts me, making me jump in suprise. John starts looking around nervously, his cover obviously blown. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was cute. She doesn’t give any sign of even noticing he’s there, walking right over to me. I want to protest when she starts telling me I should go back to the others, but for some reason I don’t.   
  
  
  
  


Once back at the breakfast table, my mum translates my apology so the others’ll understand it.

“I’m sorry I just left like that, I… I don’t know why, actually. But, now I’m here again.”

I finish off my little speech with a small smile, the others taking turns assuring me that it’s fine. 

This really isn’t as bad as I thought it would be.   


	4. Chapter 4

A few hours after finishing my new pair of toasts, my mum leaves. But not before she’s given me a very serious talk about taking responsebility and handling situations “like an adult”. This little talk also includes her telling me how much she’ll miss me and how proud she is of me that I wanted to give this a try. Like she gave me a choice in the first place…   
  
  
  
  


There’s a few beeps as my phone connects to the network, and then Amy’s smiling face appears on the screen.

“Hi girl!” she exclaims happily. 

“Hello yourself”, I reply softly, a smile making its way onto my face. 

“How’s it going?”

“It’s alright, actually. My mum left like an hour ago, feels wierd but I can cope. I can take care of myself, you know.”

“So I’ve heard, but I wonder…”, she jokes.

“Hey!”

“Sorry!” 

“Don’t worry.”

She laughs a little, brushing a bright red lock of hair out of her face. I realize, once again, how much I appreciate having her in my life, and I find myself smiling for no real reason. Amy mirrors my happy expression for a minute, before she returns to asking questions.

“Have you made any friends, then? Are everyone nice to you? Are there any cute boys?”

That last one makes me blush, even though I know it shouldn’t. Amy, of course, lets out an excited squeak. 

“There are! I knew it! What’s his name? What does he look like? No no, don’t tell me! Wait… Is he brunett?”

I can’t help but rolling my eyes.

“Amy, please. There’s nothing between us, we just hang out. And- Hold on, how did you know his hair color?”

“You have a type”, she giggles.

“Amelia Pond, I do not have a type”, I tell her.

“You do”, she teases.

“This conversation will end right now if you don’t stop that.”

“Fine, fine. No but seriously, have you made any friends yet?”

“Sort of, yeah...”

“Great!”

“Amy!” I whine.

“What?”

“Could we please not treat this situation like it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me?”

“But it is! Okay, maybe not… But still, I think this will do you good. Live on your own, do what you want when you want, without your mum going on your nerves.” 

“Did she tell you to say that?”

“What? No! You seem to believe your mum and I has some kind of plot against you, but that’s not the truth. We both want the best for you, there’s no doubts of it.” 

I nod slightly to confirm I’ve been listening, but hasn’t got anything to say. 

Amy takes in a breath to say something, but she’s interrupted by a soft knock on the door. The door opens a few inches when I never respond, River peering in through the door chink. 

“Hi, Rose. I was wondering - sorry, _we_ \- were wondering if you would like to, uhm, play a boardgame or something”, she mumbles, obviously nervous for some reason.

A glance back at Amy on my phone screen, her opinion obvious: she wants me to agree on River’s offer. If I don’t, I’m never gonna hear the end of it. 

I turn back to River, nodding. Her face lights up at that, making me happy. The happiness doesn’t last long though, since I soon realize that the situation won’t be problem free: how do one play board games when one can barely lift any small object? The answer is pretty simple: one can’t. 

I find some of the others by the big table, a game of Cluedo already set up. My stomach turns at the thought, that’s like one of the of the very few games where you need to be able to use your voice without problem. I don’t _have_ to do this, right? 

“Do you need any help?” someone to my left asks me. 

I turn my head to face that someone, realizing it’s one of the staff. I resist the urge to roll my eyes, not understanding what they could possibly help me with? Talking? That won’t work: the only way anyone here will understand is if I use my speech card, and that would just end up being really awkward for everyone involved in the conversation. I mean, it’s not like anyone finds it intresting watching me communicating by pointing. And by the way, I don’t wanna ruin their game by taking forever to say something. 

So, I shake my head. I realize that this whole thing was a pretty bad idea, I should just return to my room and do what I do best: watch crappy TV or even sleep. Sleep is one of the things I love doing, because you gets a break from everything. No responsebility, no need to really think about anything. I like that. 

I turn my chair around, beginning to make my way back to my room. The sound of my name suprises me, especially since the voice saying it is very familiar. 

“Rose?”

I turn around, his brown eyes meeting mine. It’s John, of course it is. I think about ignoring him, think about simply returning to my room and maybe call my mum. I don’t, though. There’s something in his voice and the way he says my name that makes me turn around. He’s leaning on his crutches, a little smirk on his face. 

“What?” I ask. 

He shakes his head, smiling.

“No, nothing. I just… You wanna play Cluedo?“

No, I don’t. I glance over at the table where the game’s set up. It seems like the others are actually waiting for me, River drumming her fingers against the top of the see-through oxygen tank standing next to her. My earlier point still stands: neither of them would enjoy the game very much if I would join in. It would just be a huge waste of time that way, them being forced to wait as I spell out stuff with my stupid speech card! Things would be so much easier if there was just one person who could understand- 

_No Rose_ , I tell myself. That is a pretty silly thing to ask of a person, especially a person you’ve not even known for a week. And besides, I don’t even know if he wants to do it! Probably not, considering how wierd the question would sound. Then again, it doesn’t hurt to try. Right? The worst thing that could happen is that he says no. 

I brace myself, taking a deep breath. He seems to sense I want to tell him something, his entire attention on me. That only makes things worse, my anxiety slowly building up. For once I actually follow my therapist’s advice, closing my eyes and counting to ten in my head. 

“Rose? You okay?” he asks me.

I nod, opening my eyes to look at him. Oh, come on! Just ask him!

“I was wondering if… Ifyoucouldmayberepeatwhatiamsayingsotheotherswillunderstand?” I blurt out, the words melting together into a complete mess.

“I’m sorry, what? One more time, a little slower”, he tells me softly.

“I was wondering if you could maybe repeat what I’m saying so the others will understand”, I repeat, this time really quietly instead. 

I kind of prayed he wouldn’t understand this time either, but it turns out he did. He blinks, nodding slowly. 

“Yeah, I can. Of course I can!”

Before I’ve got the time to say or do anything else he’s limped over to the table, moved one of the chairs out of the way and is now waving at me to come over. I do as he wants me to, parking my wheelchair in the empty spot where the chair used to be.

“Do you know the rules?” he whispers, leaning over at me.

“Think so, yeah”, I reply.

He nods, dropping his crutches onto the floor under his chair.

“Yup, we’re ready”, he confirms, for some reason smiling like he’s the happiest dude on the planet. 

It turns out, this entire helping-me-make-myself-understood-by-repeating-everything-I’m-saying-arrangement isn’t as awkward for everyone involved as I though it would be. It’s really simple: I whisper what I want to say and John repeats it out loud for everyone at the table to hear. He doesn’t add in any “she says that” in the beginning of every sentence, he simply repeats every single word I’ve just told him. Like an extra voice, or something. At one point River asks him how he can understand what I’m saying without any problem, to which he responds by telling her he’s suprised she can’t. 

When the game’s finished I sit by the wall, watching some of the staff helping with putting everything back in the box. I think about how fun I had, and then I get sad thinking about the fact that I haven’t been able to do something like that in a long while. 

“C’mon, I’ll show you something.”

My thoughts are interrupted by John’s voice, right next to my ear. I jump a little, and he murmurs an apology. 

“What?” I ask, not being able to hide the smile anymore.

“A thing”, he says simply.

“What? A secret thing?” I joke, laughing a little.

“Exactly!”

“If it’s such a secret you can’t even tell, why are you showing it to _me_?”

“Because you’re special”, he replies immediately, like it’s as obvious as the fact that the sun’ll rise tomorrow.

“I’m really not”, I find myself saying.

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You really don’t see it, do you? Anyway, how about I show you the very secret thing?”

“Alright.”   


	5. Chapter 5

He’s suprisingly quick despite only having one leg, leading the way through the corridor. He stops in front of a door that’s not completely closed, pushing it open with one of the crutches before entering. I follow close behind him, realizing this must be his room. The walls are almost completely dominated by posters and newspaper cuttings with different motives of planets and/or stars. He obviously have a very odd fetisch. Either that, or he’s like one of those geeks on TV who people send science-related questions. 

Apart from being very space-themed, his room looks just like any boy’s room. A desk covered with random things, a chair packed with clothes and an overflowing bookcase. John limps over to an armchair next to the bookcase, sits down and reaches in among all the books, obviously serching for something special. Once he finds what he’s been looking for he waves for me to come over to him, holding up the thing so I can see it. It’s nothing special, just an ordinary notebook. If you don’t count the fact that someone’s written four large words on the dark blue cover, using a black marker. 

“Life through your eyes”, I read out loud.

He nods, his face practically glowing with pride. I can’t help but laugh a little. He looks very offended. 

“Well, what is it?” I ask.

“It’s a book, a book I’ve been writing for a while now. It’s not finished, but I figured I could need someone to read it. Tell me what they think, you know.”

I laugh even harder.

“Is this what’s so secret?”

“Yes!”

“So, no one else knows what it’s about except you?”

“Exactly!”

“Why? I mean, if you wanted feedback you could’ve just showed it to the others. Why _me_?”

“I told you, you’re special.” 

“Oh, stop it! I’m really not, you know.”

He doesn’t respond to that, but it’s very obvious he wants to protest. I decide to change the subject.

“No, seriously. Why do you want me of all people to read it?” 

“You just answered that yourself a few seconds ago”, he states calmly.

“What? That makes absolutely no sense!”

“Yes, it does. You told me you’re nothing special. This book’s gonna prove to you that you are.” 

“Okay… And how’s a _book_ gonna prove that?”

“You’ll see”, he says with a wink, placing the notebook on the plastic table attached to my chair. 

I groan.

“That makes absolutely no sense! And even if it did, I wouldn’t read it. We’ve not even known each other for a week, you and me.” 

He sighs deeply, standing up on his single leg and grabbing the book once more.

“Do you have a favorite movie?” he asks suddenly.

“Actually, I do”, I tell him honestly. 

“What’s it called?”

“ _Inside I’m dancing_. It’s about this man who lives in an-”

“Brilliant!” he exclaims.

“You don’t even know what it’s about”, I protest.

“Exactly! I will watch that movie - and I’m sure it’s great - if you’ll read my book. You don’t have to read everything I’ve written, only the first chapter. Alright? You read one chapter and I watch the movie. Deal?” 

I guess I haven’t got anything to lose.

“Deal”, I agree.

His face lights up like a sun. He takes my hand in his, shaking it softly before dropping the book back onto my mini table and sitting back in the armchair. 

“Thank you”, I murmur, starting to leave. 

“You can read before going to sleep, that will help you fall asleep!” he calls after me when I’m halfway out his room.

“Why, because it’s so boring?” I call back, laughing.

“Haha”, he replies sarcastically, though I’m pretty sure I can hear the smile in his voice.    
  
  
  


My mum calls me. I glance down at my phone when my ringtone goes off, her ID popping up on the screen and automatically pausing the music. I stare at her contact name for a moment before answering, my mind already preparing answers for all the questions she’s likely to throw at me. This will be the first time we speak after she left, and, knowing her, she gets worried very easy. 

“Rose! Hi, sweetheart! How are things?”

“So far so good, at least. The pressure of adult life hasn’t killed me, you know. Yet.”

It was meant to be an sarcastic comment to her over enthusiastic outburst, but based on her laugher she finds it funny. 

“Haha. No need to worry about that, take me as an example. I’ve been an official adult for ages, and I’m still just as alive as I can be!”

“Then I guess it wasn’t as bad for your generation. After all, every website talks about how mobiles and stuff like that will be humanity’s downfall.”

“Ironic”, she says. 

“What is?” I ask.

“I can’t get you off that phone of yours, but when you read it in the _internet_ …”

“Mum, I never said stuff like that scared me. I almost died when I was born, there’s no reason for me to fear something like that.”

She gets quiet at that, all I can hear is her breathing. She always takes references to my birth very hard, mainly becase a) she almost lost her child, and b) shortly after that my dad left her. Us. He left us. We haven’t heard a single word from him in 19 years. It must sound horrible, but sometimes I wish he’s dead. It would make it easier, knowing someone isn’t contacting you because they can’t rather than that they choose not to. 

And, somehow, my mum seems to blame herself for this entire mess. It must be a fucking pain sometimes, when your teenage daughter can’t even go to the bathroom by herself. 

“I’m sorry”, I say quickly, my voice quiet in shame. 

“It’s… It’s fine”, she assures me, but a little voice in my head tells me it isn’t.

“I’m sorry, I really am”, I repeat honestly.

“Rose, stop it! Stop it right now! Why in the world are you apologizing? It’s not your fault, I keep telling you. How could something like this possibly be your fault?”

I feel guilty for some odd reason, shaking my head.

“I don’t know. You’re right.”

She really is, I’m not just saying that to get out of trouble or make the conversation easier. It’s not like a little baby suddenly wakes up one day thinking “I know! Let’s stop breathing for a bit so I can get a brain damage! That sounds so fun!”. Yeah, sure. Spoilers: it absolutely sucks. 

“Rose?”

I suddenly remember my mum’s still on the phone. 

“Yes?”

“How are everything there?”

“It’s alright, I guess...”

“Tell me everything!”

“Um… There really isn’t much to tell. I’ve only been here a few days, remember?”

“Oh, c’mon! There must be _something_ …!”

“Alright, then. I… I’ve made a new friend.”

“Sweetheart, that’s great news! I told you that place would do you good. What’s her name? Do you guys hang out often?”

I immediately regret what I just told her.

“No, only sometimes. He’s really wierd, but in an intresting way.”

“It’s a boy? Ooohhh!”

“Mum, stop it! We’re just friends, swear. Or, honestly, I’m not sure we even qualify as friends. We’re just… Two people who talk sometimes”, I try to explain.

“Do you enjoy spending time with him?” she wonders.

“Yeah, I guess. Like I said, he is kind of a wierdo-”

“Then you’re friends!” she annunces.

“Mum!” I protest, groaning.

“Okay, okay. I get it, I’m sorry. I just want you to have friends, live a normal teenage life”, she says gently.

“I already _have_ friends!”

“Yes, Amy...”

“She’s still a friend.”

“She gets paid to help you”, she sighs.

She’s right, of course. As always. 

“Fine, I get it! You want me to make friends. I’ll work on it, right?”

“Sweetheart, please...”, she begs, obviously noticing how annoyed she’s made me.

“What?”

“Nothing, just… Love you.”

“Love you, too”, I mumble, ending the call.

I’ve got a feeling I should’ve given her an real apology, but I don’t really wanna deal with that right now. Maybe later, or tomorrow.

I press the red call button on the wall, listening to the beeps before one the staff answers the alarm.

“Hi”, she resplies cheerfully. 

“I wanna take a shower”, I say into the little speaker, but she obviously has problem understanding all of the words.

Not that I’m suprised. She’s quiet for a few seconds, like she’s trying to figure out what I just said.

“Shower?” she asks finally.

“Yes”, I tell her.

“I’ll be right there.”   
  
  
  
  


After the shower, I decide I’ll try and read a few pages of John’s book. If I’m gonna discover it’s crap, it’s better to do so early so I can give it back to him as quick as possible. 

I’m now laying on my stomache in my bed, the book on my pillow with the first page open. I can’t help but notice how pretty his handwriting is. The neat shape of each letter gives the impression that he has spent several hours just making sure the writing looks good. I adjust the long plastic stick in my mouth, there to help me turn the pages by myself, and starts reading.   


	6. Chapter 6

_ Chapter 1 _

_ The Doctor left his home planet when he had turned 18. Of course, his real name isn’t the Doctor, but no one needs to know that. He choose his name all by himself, and he’d be very happy if people would just call him by it. That’s why he left. Or, one of the reasons.  _

_ The other reason being, he never felt like “one of them”, like he belonged there. Then again, feeling that way is maybe not so wierd when your people invented time traveling. So, he left. Stole a time machine and simply left, without saying goodbye to anyone. Not even his family. He was gonna miss them like hell, of course, but missing someone like hell is better than staying at a place which doesn’t feel like home. And besides, you could go anywhere and anywhen with a time machine! Who could possibly say no to that?  _

_ The first place he visits seems a bit like a desert, though it stretches across an entire planet. A desert planet, imagine that! He picks up some of the sand and brings it to eye level, examining it. After realizing it’s nothing but regular sand he lets it slip between his fingers, back onto the ground. He stands up, looking out at the desert landscape stretching further than any eye can see. And he decides, with a satisfied smile, that it’s the most beautiful place he’s ever seen. It might sound very odd, but it’s true. They never had these kind of places on his home planet. That makes what he’s seeing very special. He allows his eyes to fall shut, simply enjoying the moment and the feeling of the wind in his hair.   _

_ Until he hears the footsteps behind him, a shadow rising above him. He spins around, his two hearts jumping in his chest. His brown eyes meets the pitch black ones of the green and yellow lizard now right in front of him. It’s nearly ten times as big as him, at least. He backs away, holding up both his hands like it might save him from getting eaten.  _

_ “Hello! Uh, hi! I’m the Doctor”, he tells the colorful creature, pointing to his chest in case the lizard isn’t very intelligent.  _

_ It responds with an actual hiss, and the Doctor takes another few steps backwards. _

_ “Not gonna hurt you, swear. I was just… Here”, he tries to explain.  _

_The lizard blinks at him, and he prays it won’t eat him._

I let out a yawn, closing my eyes for a second to rest them a little. This book is honestly one of the oddest things I’ve read in a pretty long time. I don’t even like science fiction, if I read something it’s either a cheesy romance novel or an online article listing tips on how to start thinking positively about your disability. Those tips never do any differense to my life though, no matter how many times I go though the lists. 

I turn the page in the book, using the special stick I’m holding in my mouth. The huge space lizard claims to have lost all his eggs in an sand storm, and the Doctor immediately offers to help him find them. A few sentences into the page it turns out that the time traveling main character’s only got one leg. His left leg has been replaced by a silver gray metal prosthesis, equipped with high tech stuff like scanners and remote controlls, all of which is controlled by his thoughts. It is also explained that in this specific species of lizards, the male’s the one to lay and look after the eggs. After the “act”, so to speak, the female leaves him to continue her single life. It’s an intresting thing to think about.

The rest of the chapter is kind of predictable: the Doctor uses his prosthetic scanner to scan for life signs, and he soons picks up the readings from the lizard eggs. He leads the lizard to the place where the signal’s coming from, and helps digging up the eggs from a pile of sand and dust. The lizard keeps thanking him, and he keeps insisting that it was nothing. The Doctor leaves the desert planet in hís space/time machine, and on the next page there’s a new chapter. 

I yawn, pressing the red call button. There’s only two staffs on the night shift, but during the day it’s like five. The one responding to my call is a male, a voice I don’t recognize. He tells me he’ll be there shortly. When he arrives at my room the knocks three times, opens the door and makes a huge show of introducing himself. I shut out most of what he’s saying, instantly deciding I don’t like him. He finally gets to heping me, taking the plastic stick from my mouth and placing it on the desk along with the book. It takes a while, but I he finally understands that I want him to close the binds as well. He turns off my night light before doing so, helping me roll over onto my back and placing the duvet over my body.    
  
  
  
  


“You wrote a book about yourself in a sci fi world?” I ask in disbelief. 

“Good morning to you too, Rose! Yes, I did. Did you like it?”

“Um...”

“You _did_ like it!”

“I never said that!” I protest. 

He pretends to be insulted. He’s not a very good actor. 

The moment after I’d gotten assistance with getting out of bed and getting dressed, I went to John’s room. I was a bit scared I’d woken him up when it took a long moment for him to answer the door, but when he opened he was already clothed. Tired, yes, but not still in bed. He’s standing in the doorway, hair messier then I’ve seen it, leaning against one crutch under his arm. 

“Okay, I accept you might not have liked it. One can’t like everything, you know. But, you must have some kind of thought. Right?”

He seems nervous all of sudden, rubbing the back of his neck and looking at anything but my face. I fake a cough to get his attention back to me. 

“It was… Very wierd, if I’m gonna be honest. But what do I know, I normally don’t read sci fi books.”

“Oh. Okay. Well, that… That’s cool. And you…? You read the first chapter?”

“I did”, I confirm, almost like I’m proud of it.

He smiles down at me, appearing to be lost in his thoughts. 

“Remember our deal?” I ask, suprising him. 

He seems really confused for a short second, before returning to realiy and realizing what I’m talking about.

“Oh, that. Yes-”

“Did you watch the movie?”

“No, I did not watch the movie. Not yet”, he tells me honestly.

“Well, do! I did my end, now you do yours”, I say, giggling.

He shakes his head.

“No, I-”

“You what? You’re pulling out? That really isn’t fair, _Doctor_!“ I exclaim, emphasizing the name from the book in hope that it might give him some kind of guilt.

If I’d been physically able to do so, I would’ve crossed my arms over my chest long ago. He shakes his head at that as well.

“No no, not at all. The deal’s still standing. I was just thinking that maybe we could… Um… watch it together? If you want?”

His eyes goes big and pleading, and I honestly don’t have the heart to say no. 

“Fine, whatever”, I reply.

“Brilliant! Then you’ve got youself a date, Rose!”

I look up from my hands, suddenly alarmed.

“It is _not_ a date! I _never_ said it was a date!”

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that”, he smirks.

“Doctor!” I yell, not realizing I didn’t use his real name until it’s already out of my mouth.

“Go eat your breakfast, you”, he laughs.

“Aren’t you gonna eat?” I ask.

“Nope! After all, I am an biologically superior being from the lost planet of Galli-”

“I _hate_ you”, I groan.

“No you don’t.”   
  
  
  
  


“You are _not_ going on a date with Wierdo! I mean, he is pretty good looking for a cancer survivor, but on the inside he is… Well, _wierd_.”

I notice Clara’s presence first after she’s spoken, watching her as she sits down opposite me. We are the only ones currently at the breakfast table, the others have either already eaten or not gotten out of bed yet. 

“Not a date”, I tell her.

“I’m sorry, can you repeat that?” she asks sweetly, obviously not wanting to hurt the poor girl’s feelings.

I don’t blame her, if I saw me I would probably feel sorry for me. I repeat the exact words, talking a little slower with each try. Eventually the message gets through.

“Not a date? You sure? I’m pretty sure I heard him say you had a _date_. Though, you did seem to get pretty upset when he mentioned it. Am I right?”

I nod, blushing a little.

“Nah, don’t worry about it. Like I said, he is kind of a nutter.”

She leans close to me across the table, lowering her voice into a whisper.

“A few weeks after he first got here, I heard one of the staff calling his parents saying he had bought several buckets of paint at the store and that he was painting a night sky on one of the walls in his room, with stars and planets and all. As you can probably imagine, they were pretty pissed once they got here. As was the staff. They made him repaint the whole wall white, and after they took him home that afternoon he didn’t come back for almost four weeks. We almost thought he never would.”

I giggle, my imagination constructing mental images of the scenario she just discribed.

“You still wanna go on that date with him?” she teases.

I manege to work up enough control of my arm muscles to give her a playfull slap in the spot where her right arm would be. The movement came out a little rougher then I intended, but she’s laughing so I think it was alright.

Yes, I think for myself, I still wanna go on the not-date with him. 


	7. Chapter 7

Every wednesday, this place has got some kind of activity to keep the poor invalides here entertained. Today happens to be wednesday, and today’s activity happens to be a visit to a nearby mall. Or, not that nearby, since we’ll all be taking the special made bus there. It’s special built so people in wheelchairs can get on without much problem, which is great for me. This means, however, that there aren’t enough seats for everyone who’s capable of using their legs. 

“I am not bringing my stupid chair!” River practically yells. 

Not that I’m a fan of eavesdropping, but I could clearly hear her from my room and I got curious to see what had her so upset. She’s standing with her oxygen tank thrown over her shoulder, a dark blue bag standing at her feet. She glaring at the object in question, a wheelchair. It’s the kind you see old people getting pushed around in: all four wheels are huge and there’s no possibility the person sitting in it will be able to drive it in a way that won’t kill their arm, judging by the size of the entire objects. It’s obvious it’s not made for someone living an active life, more like someone who lives a depressing life of telly watching.

Like me, I realize. 

Since we’re leaving for the mall pretty early today, I’ve already had someone help me packing my stuff. Not that there was a lot of stuff needing to be packed: my wallet, a rain coat in case it ends up raining and we happen to be outside, and a few toilet accessories in case we get stranded or something. Better safe than sorry, like my mum always said. 

After being fed my breakfast, in the form of a cheese sandwich, I returned to my room and pressed the call button to get someone who can help me with my shoes and jacket. That was when I heard River yell, and went out to the corridor as my curiosity took over. I spot the slightly orange haired staff - I have a memory of one of the others calling her Mel, though I’m sure that’s a nickname - on her way to my room. She must be the one who answered my call. She walks over to me, a smile on her face. 

“Hi girl! Ready to go?”

“Yes!” I reply immediatly, a little more enthuastically than I’m actually feeling.

Mel nods, her smile going bigger. She already seems to know exactly what I want help with, kneeling down to tie my shoe laces after putting my shoes on. Sometimes I just feel like I could skip my shoes when I go out, it’s not like I put my feet on the ground. That way I would save a lot of time. When I was a little kid I had this phase where I refused to wear anything on my feet, even socks. Sometimes tights were okay, but that was only because I felt really pretty in them. My therapist - yes, little Rose Tyler had a therapist back then - believed my negative attitude towards foot wear had something to do with my total loss of control when it came to putting them on. Or, it could’ve just been another one of those silly things kids do. 

My jacket is next: such a dark blue shade it appears to be black in some lightings, made to look like it’s made of skin though that skin is obviously very fake. I got it for my eighteenth birthday and I was really happy for it, though the jacket was only the second thing on my wishlist. The first wish had been permission to spray paint my entire wheelchair pink. I didn’t get it.

There’s a little bit of chaos on the driveway outside the building, everyone wanting to find their spot in the bus. Like I pointed out earlier there aren’t enough seats on the bus for everyone, so most of the staff will take their own cars instead. 

I’m assigned a spot by a window, turning my head to look out it as my wheelchair’s being strapped in place to prevent it from moving around inside the bus. It’s gonna be nice not having anyone sitting next to me, no one to distract me from my own thoughts. 

“This is gonna be _absolutely_ brilliant, isn’t it?”

I look up from my lap, and in that same second John sits down in the seat in front of me. Dropping his crutches to the floor he turns his entire body, wrapping his arms around his seat’s backrest.

“Yes, I guess so”, I tell him, in lack of another reply.

“C’mon, Rose Tyler! Life is an adventure, you should start seeing it as one!” he says happily. 

Is he for real? I resist the urge to roll my eyes.

“Don’t you ever get tired of it?” I ask him.

“Tired of what?” he questions, so confused it’s almost cute.

“Of being that happy and enthusiastic and positive all the time?”

“Oh. Why would I?”

“I’ve got no idea”, I tell him, the tiny smile on my lips growing bigger.   
  
  
  


As you might be able to guess, five very different personalities means five very different desires. We do manege - with a little help from the staff - to decide on what store we’ll enter first. Not that I was very involved in that decision, I’ve never really been a fan of shopping so it doesn’t matter so much to me.

At least I thought so. 

I release the joystick from my grip, my chair jolting as it comes to a sudden stop. My body temprature seems to actually drop as I lay my eyes on the dummy right at the entrence of the slop shop, my brain barely registering what it’s wearing. I can feel that anxiety growing from somewhere deep inside me. 

John not only understands what I’m saying, he also seems to notice whenever there’s something wrong with me. Like now. He limps over to me, getting down on his single knee so we’re at the same eye level. 

“Rose? Is there something wrong? Are you in pain?” he asks, for some odd reason very concerned about me.

I shake my head.

“No, it’s just really stupid.”

“Nothing’s stupid if it’s upsetting you”, he whispers softly.

That makes me smile.

“I… I have this extremely childish and irrational fear of mannequins”, I explain quietly, kind of praying he won’t hear what I’m saying. 

“You have an irrational fear of mannequins?” he repeats. 

I nod. Great job Rose, scaring off the attractive guy with your wierdness! 

“Okay, I… I’m gonna go talk to Mel, let her know the two of us will be doing something else. Okay?”

I find myself nodding, without thinking about what he just said.   
  
  
  


“It began when I was a little kid, seven or eight or something. My mum had taken me to this cute second hand store, shopping was apparently an activity recommended by my former therapist. Anyway, what me and my mum didn’t know was that the store clerks had gotten bored and come up with this prank involving pretending to be dummies and grabbing little kids whenever they walked by. As you might be able to guess, it didn’t end very well. I cried the entire car ride home, and we later heard that several parents had reported the store.”

We’re sitting in a small coffee shop, the softly yellow walls covered with quotes said by famous people who you can probably find in history books. John looks down at the half eaten banana cupcake in front of him, probably noticing that I’m staring at it. I insisted I didn’t want anything, despite him promising he would order it for me. That’s not the problem, the problem’s the eating-part. And no, I do not like getting spoon fed in public, thank you. 

“Yeah, I completely understand. And, I’m not judging you. Obviously. I’m just saying, if a shop window dummy attacked ten year old me, I would’ve spent like the rest of my life being terrified of them.”

I smile at that. 

“Like I said, the store got reported, which is a really good thing, cause- Hey, hold on a minute!”

“What?” he asks in confusion, looking around the coffee shop like that would give him an explaination of my sudden outburst.

When it doesn’t, he faces me again. 

“You just told them we’re gonna go off on our own for a bit, and they let us?”

“Yup!” 

“Like, without protesting?” 

“Yup!” 

I shake my head a little. 

“What? Don’t you trust me?” he asks, pretending to be extremely offended but not doing a good job at it, since he’s still smiling. 

“I don’t know, honestly. I mean, I’ve only known you for… How long? Anyway, my point is, you could be one of those guys you hear about who burried their girlfriend’s body in the woods”, I tell him. 

He starts laughing at that, his laugh echoing through the small shop and bringing everyone’s attention to us. I wish it hadn’t, I’ve never liked it when strangers look at me. I don’t know by, but I get a feeling that they’re judging me. It might have something to do with the fact that I’m stuck in this stupid chair and I can’t talk properly. 

Eventually, John’s laugh dies away. He look right at me once more, smiling.

“Rose, Rose, Rose… One of those guys who burried their girlfriend’s body in the woods? Ha! Don’t you think that would be a little rude of me? I mean, this is our _first_ date. And, I am a gentleman. And, if I may add, how am I going to murder a girl in a public place?”

“A date, huh? Who said this is a date?” 

“I did, just now”, he annunces proudly. 

I roll my eyes. 

“We’re in a coffee shop, having a nice chat, as _friends_. I don’t know about you though, but this does not qualify as a date in my eyes. And to answer your previous question: you could probably lure my out of here pretty easy with, like, a bag of chips.”

“Chips? Really? Not candy or something like that?”

“No, I like chips. And I rarely eat anything sweet at all.”

“Okay… Anything else you like?” 

I think for a short moment.

”There’s… I already told you about my favorite movie, remember?”

He nods.

“I like to...”

For a horrible second, I realize just how boring and pointless my life is. I don’t have any actual intrests, since I don’t do much. Does music count as an intrest? That’s kind of obvious, though. My brain works desperatly to find one intresting thing I spend my day doing.

“...watch telly”, I finish, my voice small.

“Alright. What do you watch? Any TV show?” he asks, suprisingly intrested in my every day life.

“Mostly reality, but sometimes romance movies. Like-”

I stop myself from giving any example when I see him shaking his head from side to side. This is it, he’s finally realized what an useless lump I am. 

“No no no, that’s not… You spend your days watching people embaress themself on TV? God, that is _horrible_!”

“Why should that bother you?” I ask, getting defensive. 

”Because, I can’t believe I’ve got a crush on a girl with such bad taste! You are very pretty, which is a _huge_ plus, but still-”

“You do _not_ have a crush on me!” I exclaim.

He blinks at me, confused.

“Of course I have! I should know if I’m in love, shouldn’t I?”

“Yes, of course. But that’s not my point.”

“What _is_ your point, then?”

“Look at me. I’m just… Just me, nothing more. Nothing fancy, nothing special. And I’m certainly _not_ the girl anyone falls for.”

He looks like he wants to protest, but he never does. Instead he leans forward over the round table, placing a hand on my knee.

And he kisses me.

I’ve never been kissed. I don’t even know how a first kiss is supposed to be. I do know it isn’t anything like I thought it would be, though. It’s not a quick peck, but there’s no tongue or movement of any sort either. He simply keeps his lips against mine, like he’s trying to make the feeling last longer. The warm, buzzing feeling starting somewhere deep inside me and radiating out to every single cell of my body. His hand caresses my knee, and I do know I never want this moment to end. 

We have to pull away eventually, though. 

“Just you is absolutely brilliant”, he whispers, his face still inches from mine.

There’s no reason to deny that I’m absolutely, madly in love with this idiot.  


	8. Chapter 8

After we returned “home” (I have some trouble refering to a place which isn’t the flat as home) from the little field trip, I got a strong urge to read some more of John’s book. I’ve only read the first chapter so far, and the book’s still laying on my bedside table with a bright red slip of paper marking my spot in it. He hasn’t finished it yet, he told me so himself, but he has clearly written more than one chapter. And, to be completely honest, I’m curious about what happens next. Call it a side effect of being in love if you like, but I think I’m actually enjoying a science fiction book. 

The second chapter is about this gigantic, fruturistic city. The space/time machine (which I’ve learned is called a TARDIS and looks a bit like a blue telephone booth) lands on the roof on one of the highest buildings, and the Doctor becomes witness to how a young girl with blue skin walks over to the edge of the roof and looks out over the city. She stretches her arms, lifting them above her head. 

_ The girl lifts her arms into the air, staring straight ahead. She isn’t looking at anything special, she’s simply staring at thin air. The Doctor’s alarm bells goes of: something is not alright at all.  _

_ “Hello? Hi! I’m sorry, but should you really be standing that close to the edge? You could fall, and really hurt youself!” he tells her, shouting over the sound of the wind.  _

_ The girl doesn’t react. He isn’t sure if she even heard him. She might be deaf, there’s no way for him to know that. He decides to use another tactic: he pokes her shoulder softly. She spins around at the contact, a pair of large fangs coming into view as she hisses at him. Her cheeks are wet with tears, tears that just keeps falling.  _

_Everything clicks into place in the Doctor’s mind, but by then it’s already too late. He can’t do anything but watch as the girl turns her back to him, jumping._

I find myself staring down at the handwritten words on the pages, blinking. Is this for real? It can’t be! Maybe it’s the main character’s dream? They did that once, in a TV show. He can’t have a character jumping to their death, that’s not okay! 

I suddenly get really sad. In my mind I see the blue girl’s tear stained face before she throws herself off the building, towards a certain death. I close my eyes, an attempt to focus on anything but the uncomfortable feeling. A feeling of deep sadness. 

The knock on the door saves me from entering a spiral of bad thoughts. 

“Rose, dinner!” a voice tells me from the corridor, the door being opened a few inches. 

“Coming!” I reply, realizing the page-turning-stick was in my mouth first after it has fallen to the floor. I hiss out a curse under my breath, backing away from the desk and spinning around before rolling towards the slightly opened door.    
  
  
  


I don’t stop by the main table, heading right over to the small one where I’ve had all my meals the last days. Today there’s chicken and rice on the meny, a staff already cutting up the piece of chicken for me. She greets me with a smile as she sees me, waving for me to come over. I do so, parking my wheelchair by the table. When the chicken’s cut into smaller pieces she picks up one of the pieces using the fork, holding it up in front of my mouth. I close my lips around the fork, swallowing the chicken piece as I try to think about anything but the fact that I’m a nineteen year old girl being fed my dinner.    
  
  
  


“I thought you were just wierd, but appearently you’re also morbid.”

“What on Earth is that supposed to mean?” John blurts out, turning around in the chair he’s currently sitting in. 

“Well, you had a young girl jumping to her death-”

“Shh! Spoilers! And didn’t you finish the chapter?” 

“No yet, no. I got interrupted”, I explain. 

He nods slowly, like his brain is processing my words. We soon get pretty funny looks from the others at the table. They obviously wants to know what we’re talking about, since they can only understand his side of the conversation. John seems to be just as uncomfortable as I feel, looking around and rubbing the back of his neck. 

“It… That’s classified”, he tells the others, and they all share a long, dramatic sigh. The sound of it is almost comical. I open my mouth to tell him something, when he leans down to rest his lips against my ear.

“Meet me in my room in about… Twenty minutes. And bring the book, love”, he whispers, his hot breath against my skin giving me goosebumps. 

Love? That one’s new. I’m not entirely sure I’m the kind of girl who likes pet names. And besides, it seems so very relationship-y. Does that mean it’s got something to do with the kiss earlier? It might. I didn’t think he thought about it that much after it happened, but maybe he did. 

I nod, to confirm I’ve understood and accepts his request. The others clearly didn’t hear what he told me, but I’m pretty sure that doesn’t stop their minds from wandering. 

“You guys are, like, so adorable!”

“Martha…!” John hisses under his breath, but I can’t keep myself from giggling at her reaction. 

In a way I actually agree with her, we are kind of cute.    
  
  
  


About fifteen minutes later I find myself by the closed door to John’s room, the book in my lap as instructed. I get a sudden, very odd urge to take a look in a mirror to make sure my hair looks okay. I assure myself my hair looks absolutely fine, taking a deep breath.  

Should I knock? Probably. How is he supposed to know I’m out here if I don’t? Yes, I should knock. I give my arms an silent order to do what I want them to just this once, closing my right hand to a fist and pounding it against the door softly one, two, three times. That should be enough, I decide, backing away. There’s a few anxious minutes before the door is opened from the inside.

“Hello?” John says with his usual smile.

When his eyes meets mine he lights up like a sun. 

“Rose, hi! Come in!”

I don’t think I’ve got so much choice in that matter, considering that his excited waving for me to enter his room. I roll inside without protesting much. He closes the door behind us, lifts the book from my lap and limps over to the armchair by the bookshelf. 

“Why are we here?” I ask in a little giggle. 

He smiles.

“I thought I was gonna read a bit to you, from this book that is. If you want to, though. It is fine if you don’t want to, of course. I just figured we would do some couple stuff, now that we’re… You know…”

His voice dies away a little, and he looks around nervously. 

“Now that we’re what? Doctor?”

He looks over at me, the anxiety vanishing from his face as a huge grin spreads across his face. 

“What?” I question. 

“You called me Doctor”, he says happily.

“Yeah, I did”, I say, smiling. 

I roll over to where he’s sitting, parking my wheelchair right next to his armchair. He opens the notebook, his eyes going over the page. I point out the part where I was interrupted before dinner. He nods, humming like he suddenly remembers something, and grabs something from the shelf. It’s a pair of glasses, which he places on his nose before clearing his throat and starting to read. 

I’m honestly having a hard time concentrating on the actual words, his voice being very distracting. It’s soft, beautiful, even calming in some way. It’s the kind of voice you just wants to keep listening to forever, no matter what he’s talking about. At one point he leans down to press a kiss to my forehead. I respond to that with a happy hum, a smile making its way across my face. I suddenly yawn, my head lolling to the side.

His voice, combined with the sound of his breathing and the post-meal tiredness, leads to my eyes slowly falling shut. 


	9. Chapter 9

The blue-skinned girl didn’t die. Of course she didn’t. The Doctor isn’t human, remember? He used his super-alien-reflexes to grab the girl and pull her back, before any serious damage was done. At first she seemed annoyed, mad even, but it quickly became obvious that she regreted her action. 

Somewhere when I was just about to fall asleep, I asked John how he came up with all the story lines. I didn’t register his reply, but I did notice that he kissed me. That was nice.    
  
  
  
  


I don’t wake up by myself, as I hoped I would. Instead, I’m awoken by a loud click and something bright shining through from the other side of my eyelids. I open my eyes, blinking to adjust them to the bright light. River’s standing in front of us, a yellow camera in her hands. Clara’s peering at us over her shoulder, doing a real shitty job holding back her giggles. 

It turns out John’s got over-human reflexes as well, maneging to hide the book behind him before the pair’s got time to ask him about it. Next he picks up one of his croutches, pointing it right at the camera. 

“All right guys, really funny! Did you get any good pics? Cause I do hope it was worth it, waking a sleeping man and his girlfriend”, he tells them both. 

I’m not sure if he meant to say that last part or if it just slipped out, but no matter what it still shocked me. We’ve never talked about something like that, he never said he wanted to be my boyfriend. And I never said I wanted to be his girlfriend. Is that how the world works, then? You share one kiss and then you’re suddenly a couple? Why can’t there be a kind of trial period first, to see if you really want the person as your partner. 

River turns the camera around, so we can see what’s on the small screen. It’s a photograph of me and John, obviously. We’re both asleep, me with my head resting on the little part of his shoulder I could access while still sitting in my wheelchair, him with the book still open on his lap. 

As the picture is presented to him, John sighs.

“Okay… That is a brilliant picture. Now delete it”, he says simply. 

“No!” Clara and River exclaims at the same time. 

“Yes!” he insists, poking the camera with the tip of his crutch. 

The scene doesn’t fail to make me giggle. My laugh attracts John’s attention. He smiles at me, the picture forgotten for a moment. Until there’s a flash of light as River snaps another. He maneges, however, to smack the camera with his crutch so it jolts in the middle of taking the picture. River looks at the result, obviously not happy with how it turned out. 

“You ruined my photo!” she yells, honestly sounding offended. 

Once again I laugh. I guess I should be kind of mad at them for taking photos of me without my consent, but it’s not like it was anything sexual involved. And besides, John just sort of annunced that we are dating. That’s not something I’ll ignore or stop thinking about. 

“Give it ‘ere!” he exclaims, standing up on his single leg with unbeliveble precision and yaking the camera from her hands. 

“Delete, delete, delete… Here you go!”

He hands the camera back to her with a bright smile, dropping back down into his armchair. River checks her camera for any damage as he turns to face me. 

“So, I’m your girlfriend now?” I ask. 

“Not if you don’t want to”.

“Can… Can I think about it?” I giggle. 

“Of course”, he assures me, leaning forward to press a kiss to my temple. 

“Aww!” River and Clara exclaims at the same time. 

“Get out!” John tells them sharply. 

The two uninvited visitors shares one look and then they are out the door, closing it behind them. John lets out a long breath once we are finally left alone again. His hand finds its way up to my cheek, running his fingertips over the skin there. The touch sends shivers down my spine, the good kind of shivers. I lean forward and he seems to read my mind, his lips meeting mine in a soft kiss. The soft part doesn’t apply long though, as I find myself just wanting _more_. I lick his bottom lip gently, not knowing how he’ll react. Turns out I had no reason to worry: he’s very happy to part his lips, giving my tongue entrence. We explore each other’s mouths, just enjoying the moment. 

His hands soon start to wander across my body, one of them ending up on my left breast. In the heat of the moment I’m not capable of replying to the contact with something other than an needy whine. The sudden, growing wetness between my legs scares me. I’ve never had sex before, I’m not sure my body would even allow me to. Despite the rising anxiety, I like it. I like the feeling of his hands all over me. _Him_ all over me. That terrifies me, in a really wierd way. 

He moves closer to the armchair’s armrest and I manege to throw my arms around his neck without knocking him out. His hands abandons my breasts to start making their way in under my shirt, only to discover the way’s blocked by my belt. He groans a little in frustration, my hands moving to stop his as he makes a move to unclasp it. All this new wonderfull feeling’s got my spasms worse than they usually are, and I’d rather not fall out of my chair with my head first. His eyes meets mine, and he seems concerned. I shake my head. 

“No, I’m fine. I might fall without it, ‘s all”, I explain, my voice turning into a moan at the last part as his lips comes in contact with my neck. 

He nods, busy pressing tiny kisses across my neck. He puts his hand on my tight for support, and I hear him gasping. He pulls back a little, looking me in the eye. 

“God, you’re wet”, he mumbles, mostly to himself.

The comment has me blushing like a tomato, my face turning hot as I look down. 

“No no, don’t be embarassed. It’s normal, it’s a good thing. Tells a bloke he’s doing a good job.”

I look back at him, the last part making me smile. He clears his throat.

“Do you want me to make you come?” he whispers into my ear.

To be completely honest, I don’t know. I’ve never had a single orgasm before, it’s not like I know what to expect. Based on what I’ve heard, it’s supposed to be bloody amazing. It doesn’t seem so bad, seeing stars and all that. So I nod. At my consent he leans forward, starting to rub his fingers against the wet spot on my jeans. I struggle to keep quiet, since we don’t actually know how thick these walls are. My legs part like they are moving by themselfs, my hips thrusting upwards a little. 

Within minutes he’s got me worked up, my breath coming out in small huffs. 

“You’re close, aren’t you?”

I nod. 

“C’mon, then. C’mon, Rose. Come for me. Just relax, and come for me. Relax, love. Relax and let go.”

I do. An intense, huge wave of pure pleasure washes over me. I shake as I struggle to catch my breath. Once I’ve recovered from the aftershocks I realize just how exhausted I am, my head falling to the side. John presses kisses all over my face, whispering praises and declarations of love. 

We agree to go back to my room, mostly since he kept insisting I should get some rest. Once there he proposes we should call one of the staff to help me into bed, but I tell him I have no intrest in anyone seeing me with my hair in this state and start asking questions. He agrees that is a valid argument, taking his hand from the call button. 

There’s only one solution, then: he’s got to help me.  

We manege to work out a pretty good strategy: my chair placed facing the bed, him standing beside me leaning his weight on his crutches. Then he’ll simply unclasp my belt, grab my below my arms and lift me over to my bed. Nothing can go wrong. 

Or, so I thought. 

It all goes according to plan with lifting me. The problem comes when he’s gonna spin around and lay me on the bed. The crutch doesn’t follow the movement, and without that support he completely loses his balance. 

The last thing I see before passing out is the floor, coming towards me at what feels like ultra speed. 


	10. Chapter 10

I know I’m in an hospital before I’ve even opened my eyes. 

I’m not sure what gave it away. It might be a combination of things: the pillow’s strong smell of cleansing creme, the tickling of the oxygen tube under my nose or the rhythmic beeping from the ECG. It might also be my killer headache, or the fact that my last memory is of me crashing to the floor. 

I open my eyes, groaning when my theory if confirmed: I’m in an hospital room. It’s a pretty small room with plain white walls, the only furniture being a plastic table and a plastic chair. I’m in the ICU, I realize with horror. 

My mum gets up from the chair, running over to my bed. 

“Rose? Oh my god, I’m so happy you are okay!”

“Why am I here?” I ask, my mouth feeling like it’s full of cotton. 

It’s probably all the drugs they give you in the ICU, since everyone’s in a pretty bad state when they end up here. 

“You fell, hit your head on the floor and passed out. I do not know what you were doing without your belt, but I’m not gonna think about that now. You need to rest, Rose. You had a pretty bad concussion and your leg is broken. When you are stronger they are doing a surgery so it can heal properly.”

So that’s why my leg feels like it’s been split in two? In my fuzzy state of mind it takes me a moment to locate the button for the morphine pump, but when I do I press it and everything seems to fade into the background.  
  
  
  


When I wake up the next time, mom’s talking to a doctor. I’m having trouble understanding what they are saying, the words kind of melting together. I’m not in so much pain anymore, which I think I can thank the morphine for. My head still feels funny, and I decide I’ll just close my eyes. 

It is impossible for me to calculate how much time’s gone by, since a) I spend most of the time sleeping, or b) my mind’s all messed up because of the pain killers. 

Suddenly, I wake up and I don’t feel like complete shit anymore. Both my mum and the doctors seem to see it as a huge improvement. They tilt the bed up so I can sit, and I eat a little. Later my mum annunces that they’ll move me to a regular ward so they can start thinking about the surgery. The sooner they get my leg fixed up the better. 

I feel a little better once I get assigned a regular room. It’s bigger than the ICU one and here’s also a couch. A pretty small couch, but still. Good news: here’s also a telly. Bad news: I’m not allowed to leave my bed, so I can’t get close enough to see anything on the tiny screen. My body is still pumped with morphine to cope my with leg pains though, so it doesn’t really matter.   
  
  
  


They schedule a surgery for my broken leg early the next morning. I have mixed feelings, honestly. I’ll get better, but they’ll cut me open with a knife. That’s enough to terrify anyone.

“There’s no reason to worry, sweetheart”, my mum tells me.

“That’s easy for you to say”, I mumble.

She sighs, moving her attention from her magazine to me. I feel kind of bad, honestly. This can’t be easy for her either. I still havn’t told her what happened, why I ended up on the floor. She has asked several times, but I’ve never answered. I’m not stupid, I know very well that I wouldn’t get a very good reaction if I did. 

My mum puts her magazine down, stands up and walks over to my bed. She puts her hand on top of mine. 

“Rose, love… I don’t think you realize how bad it could’ve gone. To be honest I am happy that you are alive, and so should you be. Like I said, I have no idea what happened or why it happened. Though I think I will find out eventually…” 

She seems sad. I absolutely hate seeing my mum sad, and I know it’s my fault. She might not keep insisting that it isn’t, but I know it is. Her life would be so much easier if she had just gotten a kid without any disabilities. She knows it, I know it.   
  
  
  


Amy visits me. Sadly, the minute she enters my hospital room is also the minute a nurse is taking my blood pressure, so she has to wait in the doorway before she can come and say hello. Before leaving, the nurse places an piece of paper on my night stand. I’m just about to look at it when Amy more or less steals my attention. 

“Hi there, trouble magnet”, she greets me, bringing a chair over next to the bed and sitting down. 

“Good day, Amy. Don’t you have something better to do than to visit your extremely unlucky client?”

“Rose!” my mum hisses from her spot on the couch. 

Amy shakes her head. 

“No no, it’s fine. I wouldn’t be in my best mood either if I had a broken leg”, she tells me. 

“It’s not just the leg, though. It’s the fact that I’m stuck in this bed. Look, the telly is tiny! There’s no way I’ll be able to see anything from here!” 

That makes her laugh. That’s one of the things I like about her: she doesn’t take everything about my condition super serious, like my mum does. Not that I can blame her, I guess it’s a mom’s job to worry about their children. Comes with the job description. 

“You are going into surgery tomorrow, right? To fix your leg?” 

I nod. 

“I’m sure it will feel better then. You’ll see, you be back on your feet in no ti-”

That’s where she stops talking, stopping herself in the middle of the word. I just about manege to resist the strong urge to roll my eyes. 

“Don’t worry, you won’t insult the disabled kid”, I tell her with a sigh. 

“Rose, stop it!” my mum exclaims. 

“No, mum, I won’t! I’m so tired of people being absolutely terrified that they’ll accidently say the wrong thing when I’m around! I mean, do you even realize how stupid that is? I’m not mentally or emotionally weaker simply because my body doesn’t work like everyone else’s!” 

When I’m upset my words tend to blend together and make it even harder for others to understand what I’m saying. Still, Amy seems to understand everything I’m yelling without any problem. She stands up from the chair, grabs her purse and slams the door shut behind her when she leaves. I try not to cry. 

“What the hell is wrong with you!? All we ever want to do is help you, in every way we can, but it’s impossible to help someone who won’t accept the help! And, it is absolutely disrespectfull to yell at someone who’s only trying to be nice.”

“But-”

“She is your assistant, Rose! She gets paid to help you, that’s what she does for a living! You should at least be a little grateful-” 

“Maybe I am tired! Maybe I am tired of always being grateful, of always being felt sorry for! Did it ever cross your mind that maybe I just want to be a normal teenager!?”

She leaves. I allow myself to cry once I’m alone, the pillow getting wet with all the tears. The paper is still laying on the bedside table. I recognize the handwriting, I realize. I blink away the tears, reading the message written there. 

_ Good luck with the surgery, get well soon _

_Love, the Doctor_

I cry even harder.   
  
  
  


This is it: the day of the surgery. It feels wierd to admit it, but I’m not very nervous. Does that mean there’s something wrong with me?

To be honest, I’m mostly hungry. I wasn’t allowed to eat anything after a certain hour last night. I think it has something to do with the sedation, they don’t want me getting sick and throwing up on the operation table. 

A couple of nurses underesses me and scrubs my entire body with a stinking soap-thingy. Twice. Then they dress me in one of those ugly hospital gowns and puts me back in my bed. Okay, now I’m actually really nervous. 

A few minutes another nurse knocks on the door, offering me a tiny plastic cup with a stinking liquid that apperantly holds the ability to calm me down. I take it all in one sip without thinking much about it, only to discover that it’s even worse than cough syrap. And that’s saying something. 

It doesn’t take very long until I can feel the effect kicking in. It’s getting harder than usual to focus on my mum’s rambling, and I have to ask her to talk a little slower. She does, and I listen as I close my eyes. She’s going on about something funny she read in the news paper this morning, and it makes me giggle. Though, the giggle could of course be caused by the funny feeling that medicine’s giving me. 

Eventually, it’s time for me to get escorted to the operation room. My mum’s not allowed to follow me there, and we have to say goodbye here. She takes my hand, kisses my forehead and tells me I’m brave. I don’t have a respons to that, since I’m really not. 

A few nurses pushes my bed through a long corridor, and into another room. This is it. Everyone’s wearing those ugly green outfits and I can spot a few machines in the back of the room. 

Someone’s talking to me, but I’m having a hard time following what they are saying. Their voice is muffled as the sweet gas from the rubber mask enters my system. The surgeon holding the mask smiles, and I just about manege to smile back. 

The world fades out. 


	11. Chapter 11

The surgery was successful, and I only had to stay at the hospital for a week before they allowed me to go home. Home being the flat. Of course it is, it makes absolute sense: mum obviously wants me to stay within her line of sight for the next few days. 

All the stuff that used to be located in my room are now in the institution. The walls are plain and the shelf is almost entirely emptied. The room feels cold, lifeless. For a second I wish I wasn’t here. I wish I was in my new room, with all my new friends. 

And John. I miss John.   
  
  
  


I don’t do much. I basically spend my entire day either in bed or watching telly. In other words, exactly what I used to do pre-institution. Not that I’m complaining. When one’s leg is in a cast and one is unable to move it, one isn’t very intrested in doing anything other then laying in bed. 

My mum feeds me my lunch in silence. Usually she would ramble on about all kind of things in an attempt to keep me entertained, but today she’s quiet. It makes me pretty uncomfortable. I could really use some gossip to distract me from my leg. Yes, it does hurt. I can manege it, though. They gave me loads of pain killers to bring with me home, in case the pain got too much. I’ve only taken a handfull of them in the last three days I’ve been home, so it’s not that bad. 

“Please say something”, I ask her after swallowing a bite.

She seems confused. 

“What do you mean?”

“Just… Something! You’ve been sitting all quiet here, and I’m honestly getting kind of worried”, I tell her. 

She sighs, putting the fork back down on the plate. 

“Alright then, what do you want me to say?” 

I’m not capable of answering that question, since I don’t know. I don’t know what I want her to say. I have no idea. Just… Anything. I absolutely do not like it when she’s just quiet. 

“Say something”, I request quietly. 

Her eyes meets mine. Finally she opens mer mouth, and I’m kind of reliefed, but then the doorbell rings. 

She gets up from her chair without another word, leaving me by the table. I twist my neck to follow her movements as she enters the hallway. She unlocks and opens the door. I’m not able to see the person outside from this angle, but I hear his voice. 

And I recognize it. 

“Good day mrs Tyler. May I speak to Rose?” 

It’s John. Oh dear god, it’s John. My heart seems to make a jump in my chest as that thought reaches my brain. For a short moment my brain goes blank, like I’m having trouble grasping the current situation. John is here, in my apartment. Well, me and my mum’s. 

Then there’s another thought: what is he doing here!? How does he even know where I live? Who gave him the adress? Wait a minute, is he a stalker? Oh god, I let a stalker _touch_ me! 

“Rose?”

My brain goes blank once again. I back away from the table, my chair’s wheels squeaking under me as I turn around. There he is: it’s like it hasn’t been a day since I last saw him. Still, I realize just how much I’ve missed him. I never knew you could miss someone that much after being from them no longer than a few days. 

Our eyes meet, and I swear I can feel how the Earth just stops turning. It still scares me, the effect he’s got on me. The way he can make me feel. He limps over to me, the smile on his lips brighter than a thousand suns. Once he’s close enough to touch me he drops his crutches to the floor, wrapping me in a hug. I return the embrace the best I can, humming happily into his shirt. He kisses me: first on my temple and next on my lips. It takes another minute for him to even notice my leg, wrapped in a purple cast and secured to my wheelchair with rough leather straps. He suddenly seems sad, his gaze no longer meeting mine.

“Does it hurt?” he murmurs sadly, stroking a lock of hair from my forehead.

I shake my head. 

“Not that bad, it’s alright. They gave me a bunch of pills, you know.”

I finish the last sentence with a soft smile, but he doesn’t seem amused at all. 

“How did you know where she lives?” my mum asks, totally interrupting my attempts to make him feel less guilty.

She’s leaning her shoulder against the wall, arms crossed over her chest. John turns around to face her, his hand on my knee for support. 

“Yes, sorry. The staff told me.”

“Staff?” she questions.

“Yes, the staff from the institution”, he replies.

She nods slowly, like she’s thinking about what he told her. He clears his throat a little, obviously feeling uncomfortable by the sudden questioning. I do too. I mean, it’s not a secret that she’s a bit overprotective, but a boy should be able to visit me without getting the third degree. 

She finally decides to leave us alone with a sigh, entering the kitchen. John’s attention returns to me, and he presses a quick kiss to my lips. I respond to that with a giggle, still not used to this couple-thing. His fingers finds their way into my hair. 

“I’ve missed you”, he whispers against my ear, and every anxious thought related to him melts away. 

“I’ve missed you too”, I tell him. 

He smiles at me, his face inches from mine. I could just lean forward a tiny bit and our lips would meet. So I do, and my stomach flutters just like the first time. Is this what love feels like? 

He breaks our lip contact seconds later, reaching inside his coat and pulling something out. It’s a book. It’s the book.

“I wanted to give you this”, he says, placing the dark blue notebook in my lap.

“Oh! Thank you! I never realized I forgot it.”

“I marked the latest chapter with a post-it, you might wanna read it”, he suggests.

“You mean you’ve written more?” I ask. 

He nods.

“Yup! Had this random burst of inspiration while you were in the hospital, I always write more when I’m a little sad”, he explains.

Now it’s my turn to nod. I smile.

“How did you come up with the title?” I wonder.

“I didn’t. I went on one of those story title generator sites, and simply clicked around. I don’t know, it sounded neat.”

“It sounds a bit wierd”, I admit, laughing. 

“Oi! Don’t be rude!”

“Technically I’m being rude to the website, so...”

“Brilliant!” he exclaims.

“What?”

“You. You’re brilliant.”

“Where did that come from?”

“Can’t a man let his girlfriend know just how much he loves her?”

“Girlfriend? So we _are_ a couple then?” I tease.

“Of course we are a couple! Implying something else would be daft.”   
  
  
  
  


He leaves about an hour later, tearing a tiny hole in my heart. It’s not that I’m never going to see him again, of course not. 

I follow his instructions, opening the notebook on the page marked with a small post-it sticker. My eyes dart to the bottom of the page, where I see my name. That can’t be right. Can it? 

I start reading. 

It’s about me. The chapter’s about me! Or, it isn’t really a chapter. It’s more like a collection of thoughts. Thoughts about me, that is. He’s written about how much he loves and misses me. It makes me smile more than anything’s ever done. 

He’s written down what he loves about me (the list is pretty long) and he’s even doodled a few hearts and smileys in some places. It’s unbelivebly cliché, but it still makes me happy. The warm, fuzzy feeling is back. 

At one point my mum asks me what’s got me so excited, and I let her look at the page.

“Wow”, is everything she says.

I nod. She lets out a humming sound, like she just remembered something important. 

“Oh, I forgot to tell you! Amy called when you had a nap earlier. Said she forgives you, understands and hopes everything is okay.”

I nod, finding my smile growing. I felt pretty bad after yelling at my assistant, honestly. Believe it or not, I am actually not a horrible person. 

My attention return to the book. 


	12. Chapter 12

After spending one week and three days at home with mum, I finally manege to convince her to let me at least visit my friends at the rehabilitation home. I won’t get rid of the damn cast for another four weeks, but it doesn’t hurt at all like it did in the first few days. 

The staff welcomes me at the door, asking how I’m feeling and telling me how they’ve missed me. Like they havn’t got other youths to take care of…

I keep that last thought in my brain, smiling politely and explaining that I’m feeling much better. They kindly offers my mum to carry the bags to my room, at which she shakes her head and insists that that isn’t necessary. She’s always had this idea that if she can do something by herself, she’s going to do it by herself. Sounds like me, when I think about it… 

Everyone is probably in their rooms right now, since there’s no one else here. I want to see John, but I’m not sure if he’s busy at the moment. I don’t wanna disturb him if he is, so I decide it can wait a little longer. It’s not like I don’t get to see him again, anyway. 

Neither me or my mum feel like unpacking anything at the moment, so she simply dumps the bags in the middle of the room. I take a moment to just look around, feeling kind of reliefed. Everything is just like I left it, no one has bothered to clean anything. I roll over to one of the windows, looking out. Even the view is the same. In a way, it’s like no time has passed at all. 

“I’m gonna miss you.”

I turn to look at my mum, her words confusing me. 

“What do you mean?” I ask. 

“You’re gonna stay here now, aren’t you?”

I don’t reply to that, though she looks like she wants me to say something. I don’t know what to say. I don’t even know if she’s right. I don’t know! I mean, I do like it here, but it’s not like I’m not gonna see her again. This isn’t Mars or anything, it’s just a different building. Though, I think it’s a bit of a mum’s duty to worry about their kid. Not that I’m a kid anymore. 

“Maybe. But, that doesn’t mean we won’t ever see each other again”, I tell her. 

She nods, understanding. 

“I know. I get that. It’s just… I don’t know, so lonely, you know. The flat is so empty, so quiet.”

She takes a shaking breath, wiping the corner of her eye. 

“Are you gonna cry now?” I ask her.

She laughs a little. 

“Cry? No, of course not. I just-”

She’s interrupted by a soft knock on the door. It turns out to be one of the staff, smiling brightly. 

“Rose! How nice to see you again! It’s almost dinner time. Are you hungry?”

Truth is, I am. I didn’t really eat anything before leaving the flat. I gladly accept the offer, following her out to the kitchen.    
  
  
  


I get a sudden flashback from when I first got here. Jack is the first one to see me, looking up from his plate of food.

“We didn’t scare you off, then”, he says with a smile.

The others looks up, wondering who he’s talking to. John’s face completely lights up once he realizes it’s me, and he stands up so quickly he almost loses his balance. He does, however, manege to grab onto the table before falling over. He curses and reaches down in an attempt to grab one of his crutches. I really can’t help the giggle that escapes my mouth. He looks over at me, looking insulted but very obviously pretending.

“Rose Tyler, how very rude of you!” he exclaims, making Clara giggle.

“Well, maybe I’m just rude”, I reply.

He sticks his tongue out to me, getting a hold of his crutches and standing up. He - once again - suprises me by moving quickly, crossing the distance between us in a matter of seconds and throwing his arms around me. I return the hug the best I can with my disobedient arms, burying my face in his shoulder. 

“It’s a very good thing you’re here, Rose. Maybe John will finally shut up about you now!” River exclaims, making everyone around the table laugh.

John lets out some sort of noise which I think is supposed to be a protest, but doesn’t move an inch. 

“Aw, come on! You can’t blame a man for being in love, can you?” Clara asks, her question followed by the noise one might make when they see a cute puppy.

That’s when John’s eyes lands on my still cast-covered leg. He lets go of me, backing away like he just accidently burned me. I shake my head, in some attempt to reassure him.

“No no, it’s fine. You can still touch me, you know”, I say, giggling a little.

“He’s just scared he’ll break you”, Martha laughs.

I’m just about to make a comment on that, but the words get stuck in my throat before I’ve even figured out what to say. I lean a little closer to John and whisper in his ear, not sure how to handle the situation. 

“She can understand what I’m saying?” I whisper. 

He chuckles. 

“You need to stop seeing yourself as wierd or odd. You’re not that difficult to understand, you just gotta listen”, he tells me.

“He more like lectured me on a hundred reasons why I should be able to understand”, Martha informs me. 

“That is not true!” John cries.

I laugh, earning a playful slap on my knee from him.    
  
  
  


“You really love him, don’t you?” my mum asks me once I’m back in my room after dinner. 

“I guess...”, I say, carefully. 

She nods, her lips pressed together. 

“What?” I breath.

“I just… I had this wierd vision in my head that you would spend all your days in your room, looking out the window. Like you see people on the telly do, you know. But, look at you…! You’ve even got a boyfriend!”

I feel myself blushing.

“Mom!” I whine.

She chooses not to embaress me further, which I’m thankful for. Instead she reaches for my pink backpack, and starts unpacking without me telling her to do so. I choose not to question her, though. She probably knows what she’s doing. Probably. 

The knock on the door makes me jump a little in suprise. The person apparently waits for my reply.

“Come in!” I call, my voice small.

The door opens a tiny bit, and John’s smiling face appears in the chink. He obviously didn’t expect my mum to be there, judging by the suprised (and kind of shocked) look on his face as she greets him with a small smile. For a short moment it actually looks like he’s about to fall over. It’s kind of adorable, in a wierd way.

He clears his throat before speaking:

“Nice to meet you again, mrs Tyler. I’m here to kidnap your daughter”, he announces, like it’s something he’s very proud of.

I shake my head at his grin, my mum thinking about what he said for a moment.

“Hmm… I guess it’s alright. Just, where exactly were you planning on taking her?”

“I’ve been thinking about Mars, 32nd century. They’ve got some lovely anti-gravity restaurants, and-”

“Mars!?” she shierks.

“Oh my _God_ mum, he’s joking! How would we get there, anyway? It’s not like he’s got a spaceship or anything!” 

Her eyes follows his every movements, like she’s trying to decide of she’s gonna accept him as my partner. God knows what she’ll do if it turns out she doesn’t…

“Really, where are we going?” I ask him.

“That, my love, is a suprise.”

“Of course it is”, I mutter.   
  
  
  


The mini van he ordered all by himself (!) takes us to a fancy restaurant. We take the transparent elevator to the top floor. 

“I should remind you I’m not a very big fan of eating in public”, I inform him as the dubble doors slide open with a ding and I roll out onto the bright red carpet. 

“Then maybe I should inform you that you aren’t requiered to eat, but if you want to I booked a private table.”

“I don’t deserve you”, I tell him, honestly.

“Likewise”, he replies, to which I shake my head. 

A waiter welcomes us. Or, more like him.

“Good evening, sir. Would she like something to drink?” he asks, very obviously refering to me.

“She’s gonna smack you if you keep calling her she”, I hiss under my breath.

“Huh?” the waiter says, having heard that I said something, but not what I said.

“She said she’s gonna slap you if you keep calling her she”, John tells him cheerfully, like what I said wasn’t aggressive at all.

The horror-mixed confusion on the waiter’s face is absolutely priceless. He mumbles something, tells us to follow him and hurries towards what I expect is our table.

The table John booked for us is on a balcony, and there’s a dark red courtain that can be pulled forward so it’s separating the table from the rest of the restaurant. The table is originaly meant for two people, but now there’s only one chair. It takes a short moment for my brain to figure out that’s cause my wheelchair’s meant to be there. 

The waiter once again asks us if we’d like anything to drink, and I find myself ordering a glass of soda. With John’s help, of course. 

I’m actually suprised I didn’t notice the view before: you can see so far from up here, all the building’s looking almost tiny. 

“It’s not a bad life”, I find myself saying.

“Better with two”, he says softly.

I smile. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you have it, guys: a (kind of) short, cute fanfic involving my otp. Hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! Love y'all!


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